December 22nd, 2008

It’s amazing to me that something as simple as sweeping up the bathroom floor can send the mind on a whirlwind into the past. The black locks I was sweeping up reminded me of growing up and combing through my father’s hair.

I remember thinking how dark and straight it was. Dark, straight, with a little wave at the end. I imagined it to be the same texture of a stallion’s mane. A stallion running through an open field with his foals at his side. Laughing at the dandelion puffs that floated through the air. Not a care in the world, no place to be, and nothing to think about. Not that that was ever a problem for me. I tended never to think about much beyond the moment, and quite frequently lost myself in that.

My father, on the other hand, always had his mind going. He was always too preoccupied to participate in my child hood fantasies. I never blamed him for this, and still don’t. He was supporting myself, 2 brothers, sister, and mom. His job was a blue-collar lower management position he acquired after he lost his trucking job up north. He was rarely physically there while I combed through his hair, his eyes could not hide his preoccupation with what there was left to do at work. And often he missed parts or all of holidays to set the store for the next big day. It must have been hard on him. He worked to live; to allow us to live, but in doing so missed a crucial part in that living. He missed us growing up.

Nick and I are on the cusp of that critical part in our lives. We are working to survive. And as I swept up the rest of my hair off the floor I have to remember my father and find a better balance than giving up what I consider the most important part of my life.